


what we do today

by Crollalanza



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Future, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28873917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: Osamu merely shrugged, not interested at all. “One thing,” he murmured. “I know you're gonna be brilliant, but remember it ain’t do or die today. There are other teams.”About that …“Mmm, thanks,” Rintarou muttered, committing himself no further.Trying out for the Falcons and Suna has a lot to consider.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	what we do today

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Day 2 of Suna Rintarou Week using the prompt 'Future'
> 
> I have a favourite line in this fic that always makes me giggle when I see it, in case you ever see me smirking.

“The future depends on what you do today.” Mahatma Gandhi

“You don’t seem bothered,” Osamu said, lazily as if he wasn’t expecting a response.

Turning onto his front and picking at a blade of grass, Rintarou considered his reply. “It’s your future, not mine.” _And not Atsumu’s either_ , he didn’t add, but he knew Osamu understood because he let out a deep sigh.

“Did you ever think ‘bout us both playing pro?” Osamu asked. “Like on the same team?”

“Nope.” The answer was blunt, so he stretched out, linking their fingers to soften the word. “I didn’t think of anything much, although playing _opposite_ your brother is appealing.”

“Haaa, yeah, I wouldn’t mind that.”

“Really?”

His phone beeped, a reminder to move, and much as he was enjoying this time in the late summer sunshine, Rintarou levered himself to standing, then offered his arm to Osamu hauling him to his feet and laughing as he groaned.

“You don’t have to come along,” he said.

“Naw, s’cool. Be good to see Aran-san again.”

“You know _he’ll_ try and drag you on court.”

“Yup. He’s probably packin’ up my kit as we loiter,” Osamu replied, hoisting his bag onto one shoulder. “But I’m strong, and I have protection in the form of my large recipe book.”

“You’re going to read while I try out,” Rintarou deadpanned. “The most important day of my life, Miya. The beginning of my pro career, and you’re going to read a book.”

“It’s to hit _him_ with,” Osamu said simply. “And I’ll read it when he’s servin’. Otherwise my attention will be totally focused on you.”

“Hey, get a move on! Don’t keep your captain waiting!” a voice bellowed at them from the car park.

“I thought the novelty of his captaincy might have worn off by now, but wow, he’s still milking it,” Rintarou complained mildly.

“Give ‘Tsumu anything and he’ll run with it to the top of Mount Fuji.”

“The whole Ekiden.”

“All by himself,” Osamu said, smirking.

“Might have alternated with you,” Rintarou replied with a side glance … waiting.

But Osamu merely shrugged, not interested at all. “One thing,” he murmured. “I know you're gonna be brilliant, but remember it ain’t do or die today. There are other teams.”

 _About that …_ “Mmm, thanks,” he muttered, committing himself no further.

Atsumu was standing by Coach Kurosu’s car arms crossed and scowling when they strolled towards him.

“Good of you to join me,” he snarled.

“Sensei’s not here yet,” Rintarou replied, extra sweetly. “My, my, what a big bag you have, ‘Tsumu.”

The reply was lost in the space between Atsumu’s splutter, Osamu’s eye roll and their Coach appearing.

“Right, in you get,” he ordered, giving the three of them a cursory glance. “No, wait.”

They stopped.

“Before we get on our way, I want to make one thing clear.”

“What’s that, Kurosu-san?” Rintarou asked when the others stared at the ground.

“I ain’t taking any of you along for the ride. This might not be an official try out—that’ll come later—but you’re to treat it seriously. No freeloaders!”

“Uh… sensei.”

“Hear that, ‘Samu. You gotta tryout.” Atsumu grinned. “Good job I got your kit in my bag.”

Kurosu blinked, stared at the three of them, then shook his head. “No, no, Osamu’s been cleared. I mean the pair of you. No mucking about and no slacking off, just because this might not be your first choice. Or you could end up with no choice! Got that!” They all nodded dutifully, even Osamu. “Right, sort yourselves out and don’t sit on that cushion.”

“Why not?” Atsumu asked, poking it with his hand.

“It’s the dog’s and she’s particular about who uses it,” Kurosu snapped.

“Shotgun the front!” Atsumu said immediately.

“No, the three of you sit in the back. Suna, you’re in the middle.”

They set off, Osamu cramped up behind Kurosu’s seat, Atsumu a little better off once he’d pushed the passenger seat forwards, and Rintarou shifting around in the middle. He lolled his head backwards pondering again why they hadn’t gone with the simple option of taking the bus. Having Coach Kurosu there would be an advantage, Atsumu had said, but even he appeared to be having second thoughts, flexing his hands and fingers on repeat as they drove.

Halfway there, and with a groan, Osamu gave up all pretence he was comfortable, and eased his legs out, to stretch them across both Rintarou and his brother.

“Hey!!” Atsumu protested, shoving him. “Scrubs don’t get extra space.”

“You’re just mad cuz my legs are longer,” Osamu replied, yawning, but he moved his legs from Atsumu’s side of the car.

“Now, you are not to embarrass me,” Kurosu began as they turned off the main road. “I know the Falcons’ coach. He doesn’t suffer fools gladly. Got that, Atsumu!”

“Coach, this is what I want. I’m not about to mess around,” Atsumu muttered. He pulled at his phone, squinting at the screen, and his eyes widened. “Wow.”

“What’s wow?” Osamu asked, trying to grab the phone.

“Nuthin’ that concerns lightweights like you,” Atsumu replied and leant forwards. “Kurosu-san, I am serious, okay! You know how much I want to play pro. I won’t embarrass you.”

“Good. Suna!”

“Yup.” Suna tore his eyes away from trying to read whatever Atsumu had on his screen. “I’m serious too, sensei.”

“Only I weren’t too sure you’d want to turn pro, and I don’t want you thinking this is an excuse to skip school.”

 _Bit late now._ “I’m exploring options,” Rintarou replied neutrally. “If they tell me no chance then…”

“I’d join another team,” Atsumu interrupted, “and really rub their noses in it when I beat the pants off them.”

Rintarou smiled and said nothing, giving Atsumu his moment, because the chance of any team in Japan turning down the number one high school setter was miniscule. He, however … a leading blocker, but not the best. Chance would come into it, and chance didn’t always favour the brave – however neat the catchphrase.

“Well, the coach is an old … uh … friend of mine. So don’t let me down.”

“Friend?” Osamu asked innocently, and pressed his thigh against Rintarou’s.

“Rival then. Whooped him good back in high school and later in the leagues.” He slowed the car. “Before the injury, of course.”

“Of course,” they all chimed.

“Before my playing career was cut short. Not my fault, you know.”

“Uh-huh.” They nodded in unison.

“Fool of a Middle Blocker slammed into me. Broke my foot.”

Atsumu was pressing his lips together, Osamu stuffing his fist into his mouth, only Rintarou was able to continue his poker face. But this time, possibly the seventy-fifth time of hearing Coach Kurosu’s tale of woe, something struck a chord because even if you made it to the V league, it wasn’t a guarantee of a happy-ever-after.

“We won’t let you down,” he muttered after glancing at Atsumu. “And I’m grateful for the chance, sensei.”

“Mmm, me too,” Atsumu said, but his eyes had switched back to his phone again and he was silent for the rest of the journey.

For someone who’d spent two years of their time at Inarizaki berating the twins and cursing their very existence, Aran beamed at their arrival. He was waiting at the door, clearly designated to give them the guided tour, gave a low bow to Kurosu, a high five to Rintarou and then a couple of backslaps to both Miyas.

“You changed your mind, Osamu?”

“Huh, me? Naw. Just curious. Thought I’d catcall ‘Tsumu for you, so you got an excuse not to sign him.”

“Hey! I can still kick box you across the stadium, rice-boy.”

Aran laughed, full-throated and joyous, then grabbed Atsumu into a headlock and ruffled his hair. “Good to see some things don’t change, you moron. Remember there are grown-ups here, okay?”

“Sure.” He wriggled free and straightened up his clothes. Inhaling, he started to grin again, his eyes dreamy. “ _Professional_ salonpas and sweat, can’t wait!”

As they walked into the Falcon’s stadium, Osamu paused at the swing doors. _Maybe,_ Rintarou thought, _he’s wondering if he should be here._ Yet he didn’t look down or away, his eyes taking in everything, flicking from the courts to the stands.

“Any of the concessions open?” he asked.

“Merch is,” Aran replied, straightfaced. “You can buy a shirt with my name on it.”

“Small yay,” Osamu replied. “Uh, I meant food.”

“I know. Nothing yet, but here’s a vending machine and a café close by if you’re desperate to fill that bottomless pit you call a stomach.”

“Naw, I’m good. I have snacks,” Osamu murmured then turned back to Rintarou and his brother. “Uh, guess you guys need to change. See ya later.”

“Come on,” Atsumu said. “Stop pretending. I’ve got your kit with me. You know you want to, or you’d have given up after Inters.”

Osamu gave his brother a _look,_ said no more but offered a small smile then stepped away, and it appeared finally as if Atsumu accepted that response, because although he scowled, and let out a curse, his heart wasn’t in the anger and he’d turned his attention to the direction of the changing room.

“Good luck!” Osamu called, and receiving a backward wave in return, he strolled towards the stands.

“I’ll introduce you to the guys, if you want,” Aran said, nudging Rintarou forwards. “There’s a few other high-schoolers trying out informally, like you are. But … uh … is there anything you want to ask, now we’re alone without that pair interrupting?”

“There is, yes.” It was easier to admit doubts without Atsumu hovering. “How’s it been, Aran-san? Honestly?”

“Honestly? It’s been hard. This is pro, after all, and I’m starting at the bottom again, but…” He wiggled his hand, before grinning. “Worth it. I might not have _started_ a game yet, but I get to play and the team is good. Okay, we’re not the Adlers…”

“You had an offer, didn’t you?”

“Yup, but this was the best fit.”

“Why?”

They’d caught up to Atsumu, who for once was reticent and waiting by the changing room. So it was Aran who pushed the door open, letting them through before swinging it shut behind him. “Adlers have a much larger squad. I knew Ushiwaka was slated to go there and I figured they weren’t going to take a chance on two rookies. And I guess I didn’t want to leave home that desperately.”

“Us, he means us!” Atsumu chirped. “He’d miss us too much.”

“No way. You sign for the Falcons and I’m going overseas.”

All things considered, the tryout—even though unofficial—went well. In fact, Rintarou thought, as he made use of the Falcons’ showers, even if he considered nothing at all, he’d played well in both the practise set and then the three on threes.

It was Atsumu who’d shone, his tosses supreme and not remotely fazed by the switch up of players. But as they made the journey home, his face was darker than pitch, glowering at his hands and shooting malevolent glances at his brother.

And maybe Kurosu realised, certainly he’d been casting glances in the rear view mirror, because he eased off the accelerator and began to talk,

“You both played well. You did yourselves, me and Inarizaki proud.”

While Rintarou muttered a polite thank you, Atsumu was silent.

“Atsumu, what’s that? I didn’t hear you,” Kurosu said.

“I did _not_ play well,” Atsumu seethed. “Some doofus put me off my serves and they sucked.”

“You take a while to warm up,” Kurosu replied, blithely. “Most of the pros do too, y’know. When I was playing—”

“Samu put me off!” Atsumu exploded. “Just when the run up finally felt good, he distracted me!”

“Huh, what did I do? All I did was eat.”

“You came back in. I heard you slam the fricking door.”

“I didn’t _slam_ the door,” Osamu protested. “I might have let it close, but that’s cuz I was holding things.”

“FOOD! YOU WAS STUFFIN’ YOUR FACE AND DIDN’T THINK ‘BOUT ME!”

Closing his eyes, Rintarou settled back into the seat letting the argument rage around him and plugged himself into his phone. Of similar mind, Kurosu turned on the radio and sped up to get them back to school quicker.

 _I guess I wasn’t desperate to leave home_.

Aran had looked and sounded happy. More than that, Rintarou had felt his satisfaction as if it were palpable. He’d found his team and was working hard to establish his place. And that was not just important, but enough.

Next to him, Atsumu had lapsed into silence, staring at his phone again, and although normally Rintarou would have ignored him and talked to Osamu, he was curious about something, so unhooked his earbuds.

“Did you like the set-up?” he asked casually.

“Huh? Uh, yeah, it was cool.”

“Could you see yourself playing for them? If they wanted you, obviously.”

Expecting a toss of the head and a ‘pfft’, Rintarou was surprised to see Atsumu chewing his lip instead. “I’m not sure. It’s … uh …”

“Would your first choice would be the Adlers?”

He screwed up his face. “Uhm, despite them being ‘city scrubs’ ‘n all, it’d be hard to turn them down, but … uh …” He was gnawing his lips now, pressing his teeth in so hard, Rintarou wondered if he’d draw blood. Then with a groan, he handed his phone over. “Look.”

“At what?”

“The last page I had up.” He entered his password, then thrust the phone back to Rintarou where a video flicked into life. A wing spiker leaping for a ball and slamming it down with such force, Rintarou was surprised the car didn’t explode around them. And then the player punched the air and his smile was as wide as the stadium.

“That’s Bokuto.”

“Mmm. In a Jackals’ shirt. I knew he’d gone there, but hadn’t ‘preciated how quickly he’d … uh … adapt, I guess. I mean, he’s always been brilliant, but kinda flaky. Would drive me nuts, you know?” Frowning again, he leant forward. “Sensei, do you know the MSBY coach?”

“Nah, he’s American. And recent.”

“Ah, so no chance of a tour?”

“If they want you, they’ll get in touch,” Kurosu intoned, then he chuckled. “However, Shuugo-kun’s an alumni of Inarizaki.”

 _Who?_ Atsumu mouthed.

Rintarou coughed, “And Shuugo-kun is?”

“Meian Shuugo. Gah, don’t you know anything? New captain and damn fine middle blocker. Good at keeping hotheads in check.”

They entered the school grounds and Osamu woke up from his doze, giving a huge yawn and a cramped half-hearted stretch. 

“You honestly can sleep anywhere, can’t you?” Atsumu complained, then switched his focus back to Kurosu. “Uh, sensei, can I have a chat with you ‘bout today and stuff?”

Locking up his car, Kurosu nodded, and the pair of them walked away to the gym leaving Rintarou and Osamu together as the sun dipped below the trees.

“Was it interesting watching us?” Rintarou asked as they walked back to their dorm.

“Uh … yeah, sure. You played well,” Osamu replied, giving his and a squeeze.

“You weren’t there for most of it.”

“Yeah, sorry, I got talking to someone and … uh … look I’m sorry, right!”

“I didn’t mind,” Rintarou assured him, bumping their shoulders together. “Who were you talking to?”

“A lady that has one of the concessions.”

“Picking her brains?”

“Mmm, something like that.” He slowed his pace. “I need to get some experience—besides eating. I was asking if I could work some shifts after Spring High.”

“You’ve got this all worked out, haven’t you?”

“Getting there. And you?”

“They have to sign me first.”

“But turning pro’s definitely what you want, right?”

“Yeah, today made up my mind. I can hold my own… just … but I’ll get better. Aran-san looked happy, don’t you think? And turning down the Adlers … wow!”

“Mmm.” Osamu kicked a small stone across the courtyard, watching as it ricocheted off a waste bin. “Would you sign for them if they wanted you?”

“The Adlers? Sign me!” He laughed at the idea. “They’re a power team and I’m not, but sure, if they wanted some finesse.”

“No hesitation ‘bout moving away, then?”

 _Ah_.

He brushed his fingers against Osamu’s, felt the hesitation, then breathed when Osamu linked their hands. “I’ve already moved away once, Osamu.”

“Comin’ here.”

Nodding, he squeezed Osamu’s hand. “Be three years when we graduate. And they’ve been great years. The best, you know.”

The reply was a bald statement of fact. “You’re leaving.”

“I’m not ruling it out.” He tugged Osamu close, and uncaring they could be seen, touched his lips to Osamu’s brow.

“Feel bad I never asked,” Osamu mumbled, “but do you get homesick? Cuz I know I would.”

“Sometimes, not always, not as much since we … uh …” He swallowed down the lump in his throat. “My sister plays. She’s a wing spiker.”

Osamu jostled his arm. “Got good taste, then.”

“Yeah, need to talk her out of that,” he snuffled.

“So you want to go back to Aichi. Looking at EJP, right?”

“I’d like to try. Yotsuya’s got a pretty good V2 side, too. Nothing definite, though.”

Osamu traced Rintarou’s face with his fingertips. “You’re too good, and you want this. That’s what makes the difference. Saw it with Aran-san today, and ‘Tsumu when he was lookin’ at that Bokuto clip.”

“Thought you were asleep.”

“I peeked.” He let out a soft groan then pulled Rintarou into his arms. “Growin’ up sucks. All these decisions about our future.”

“Hey, we might fuck up at Spring High again, and then no one’ll want me.”

Sighing, Osamu held him tighter. “You know earlier when ‘Tsumu assumed I was in denial ‘cuz I hadn’t dropped volleyball after Inters.”

Unsure where his was going, Rintarou nodded. “You still enjoy playing. What’s the point in dropping it?”

“We-ell, I could get more retail experience if I stopped practising and playing so much.”

“Oh, hadn’t thought of that.” He sniffed. “Um, so why have you stuck around? You could quit now.”

“Naw, the pair of you need a good run at Spring High, so you can dazzle those scouts—and I won’t be forced to employ you both,” Osamu joked, then nuzzled his ear. “You need me on the team. So does ‘Tsumu, though he’ll never admit it.”

“Even though I might move away?”

Osamu took a breath, released Rintarou from his embrace, but linked arms. “I think you’re going anyway, ‘Tarou, and I can’t keep you here forever. But … you don’t get rid o’ me that easily. I will visit—if you want me to.”

“I’m counting on it.” Rintarou replied.

“And even if you don’t, I’m plannin’ on being so successful that I’ll have onigiri concession stands in every stadium.”

“HEY!!!!” Atsumu barrelled towards them, a shit eating beam of a grin on his face. “Kurosu-san got in touch with the Jackals’ coach! I can go and look next week. You too, Rin.”

Rintarou groaned. “I’m never escaping the Miyas, am I?”

“Do you want to?” Osamu asked, speeding up in response to Atsumu’s sprint.

“Maybe one of them.” He grinned and slapped Osamu’s bum, as they both broke into a run. “I’ll let you work out which one I want to stay in touch with.”


End file.
